


Climax

by yeaka



Category: Space Force (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Ficlet, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24731209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Adrian’s not Maggie.
Relationships: General Mark R. Naird/Dr. Adrian Mallory
Comments: 8
Kudos: 98





	Climax

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Space Force or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Somehow, it’s not as different as he thought it’d be.

Sure, it’s _different_ —even when he closes his eyes, Adrian smells like rich pinewood cologne instead of lavender perfume or strawberry shampoo, but Mark can look past that—Maggie hasn’t smelled the same since prison anyway. It _feels_ different—tighter, drier, even though Adrian took maddeningly long with the lubrication on both of them; Mark’s not _stupid_ : he knew some form of preparation would be necessary, but surely not _that much_ —Adrian was just teasing him. Maggie didn’t tease him much. They just came together like pure magic, instantly on fire. Adrian argued with him for an hour, made him drive all the way off the base to get a different kind of condom, wouldn’t let him help with actually applying the products, lectured him for half an hour on the ignorance of his ‘heteronormative’ assumption that he’d top and then told him to top anyway. And of course Adrian _sounds_ different: he doesn’t have Maggie’s quiet breathy gasps but moans low in the back of his throat and rumbles it out like some horrendously lewd adult-rated movie. Maybe it should make Mark recoil, but it doesn’t. Instead, he leans lower over Adrian’s back and rams in harder, deeper, grinding in to the very root, because at the end of the day, Dr. Mallory feels _damn good._

Honestly, it’d be easier if it didn’t. Maybe Mark would prefer a whole new sensation, one nowhere near marital sex—the whole point of finding another man was that it, somehow, feels less like a betrayal—Maggie went and got herself a girlfriend, but Mark’s still _her man._ She’s still _Mark’s woman_. Adrian’s something completely separate. It’s not cheating. He has permission. It should still feel wrong, like thinking of Kelly did. But it doesn’t. It feels gut-curling, bone-wrenchingly _right_ to be balls-deep in Adrian’s rigid body, just like it feels right to press his face into the back of Adrian’s prickly white hair and maybe ghost a kiss over the nape of his neck. 

Mark’s falling apart. He forces himself to straighten back up. He still shouldn’t get too close. He looms over Adrian, over his own desk, with the doctor sprawled out across the surface, bent completely in two. His pants are around his ankles, but everything else is still in tact—shirt, jacket, probably even tie, and maybe Mark wants to rip that all off, but he ignores it. He doesn’t need to see Adrian naked. Doesn’t need this to be any more intimate than it already is. Adrian presses his cheek against the smooth wooden surface, eyes scrunched closed, and lets out another filthy moan. His voice is so unique—it’s impossible to pretend it’s anyone else. Mark finds he doesn’t want to anyway. He keeps trying to close his eyes and just keeps opening them up again. Maybe he wants to memorize the view. He tells himself he won’t masturbate to the thought of this later, but he knows he will. 

Adrian pushes abruptly up. Mark tenses on instinct, hips stilling, but there’s nothing he can do while he’s so fully ensconced. Adrian struggles to his feet and leans back, chest arching out but head lolling onto Mark’s shoulder. His arm reaches around to clutch at Mark’s uniform. Adrian rasps like an order: “ _Harder._ ”

Mark’s breath hitches. Usually, he doesn’t dare do more than this. He’d _never_ hurt Maggie. He doesn’t even know if Adrian could handle him _full force_. Adrian’s bigger, broad enough and sturdy, but he’s also a delicate scientist and Mark’s a soldier. Adrian breathes, “Mark.” It’s half hot but half sounds like scolding. 

One of Mark’s hands smoothes across Adrian’s chest. He really does want to rip the buttons off both jacket and button-up, _feel bare skin_. He knows Adrian would kill him for that. His other hand lands on Adrian’s bony hip, and he holds Adrian in place while he withdraws and slams back in, hard enough to make Adrian cry out. It’s music to Mark’s ears. He does it again, again, harder and harder until Adrian’s shaking and collapsing back onto the desk. Then Mark finds himself holding Adrian down and crashing into him relentlessly. Adrian’s pleasured noises echo through the room in the most erotic song Mark’s ever heard. Only the crude slapping sound of flesh-on-flesh punctuates the melody. Mark considers himself a fairly utilitarian person, but fucking Adrian’s pure _art_.

Adrian groans, “Touch me.” And Mark feels like an idiot, because _of course_ —he should’ve thought of that earlier. From the start. Instead of what’s going to be the end. Because he can’t take the scorching heat of Adrian’s tight channel much longer. He fumbles around Adrian’s thigh and grabs the sizeable cock that’s just swinging there, stiff as a board, dry, but Mark’s sweaty palm will have to be enough—he’s not stopping now. Besides, he’s getting the impression that Adrian likes it rough. Adrian doesn’t seem to mind the late attention—he eagerly humps Mark’s hand while Mark assaults his rear. It’s one of the hottest things Mark’s ever felt. He’s so close he can taste it.

He comes suddenly, brutally, and grits his teeth so hard it hurts, because he doesn’t want to scream Adrian’s name. But Adrian’s the only thing on his mind. He slams forward and comes in Adrian’s ass, filling up the condom, mind spiraling down in a giddy mess—he wishes he didn’t have the condom, even though he preaches responsibility—he wants to come all over Adrian’s taut ass and ruin Adrian’s precious suit, wants to drag Adrian over to the couch and fuck him again, missionary, staring down at his handsome face and right into his eyes—

Mark’s brain stops working and spasms out in a series of nonsensical thoughts and images, all of Adrian _wrecked_. His hips slow to a stutter, still milking it out, but he _makes himself_ keep pumping Adrian’s cock. It feels like the most natural thing in the world. He refuses to be a selfish lover. A few more strokes and Adrian shudders almost violently, whining deliciously as he comes all over Mark’s hand. 

Mark keeps pumping. He doesn’t even care if he stains the carpet. He _needs_ to make Adrian feel good. Even after he’s pulled his flagging cock out of Adrian’s fucked-raw hole, he keeps his hand tight around Adrian’s cock. Adrian lets him, even after slumping down, lying prone across the tabletop, eyes dilated, cheeks flushed, practically drooling—and then Adrian reaches back and swats at Mark’s arm. 

Mark stops. He’s panting almost as hard as Adrian is. 

He doesn’t know what to say. Or do. Suddenly it comes crashing in that Brad will probably see those stains and probably _knows everything_ , because Adrian was _a lot_ louder than he’d bargained for. 

A part of him burns with embarrassment. The rest is pride, which feels just as shameful. 

After a long moment of nothing, Adrian pushes shakily off the desk. He makes an effort to pull his boxers and pants back up, fumbling his belt into place. Then he wanders over to Mark’s couch and drapes luxuriously across it like he owns the place. 

Mark drops into his chair. As his head slowly comes back down, he wonders what he’s done to their friendship, to his marriage, to the state of the base.

Adrian sighs, voice hoarse from screaming, “So I suppose the science department will be getting that extra funding I requested.”

Mark groans, and Adrian chuckles beautifully.


End file.
